article 7


The massive plastic-cleaning device invented by a 24-year-old to clean the Great Pacific Garbage Patch is finally being put to the test.


Wednesday, Sept 12, 2018

The European Parliament votes 448—197 to trigger article 7 against Hungary for flouting the rule of law in the country. (Al Jazeera)

Iranian Kurdish shopkeepers begin a region-wide strike against the executions of Kurdish activists and the bombing of opposition parties in Koya in the neighboring Iraqi Kurdistan Region. (Kurdistan24)

Deputy US Trade Representative Dennis Shea will represent the United States at a Group of 20 trade ministers in Argentina. (Reuters)

Tuesday,  Sept 11, 2018

Iraq announces the executions of seven terror convicts in Dhi Qar, saying the men, all citizens of Iraq, were hanged yesterday. (Gulf News)

RiskIQ, a cybersecurity firm, reports that it has discovered the software that was used to gather credit card information from the British Airways website. The firm further states that the “supply chain attack” was very similar to an earlier attempt to skim data from the Ticketmaster website. (BBC)

A bus carrying pilgrims from a Hindu temple in the hills of Telangana in India plunges off a road, killing at least 57 people and injuring 25 others. (NDTV)

South Korean health authorities announce that they are searching for around 50 foreign nationals who may have been in contact with the recently confirmed MERS patient, including those who arrived in Incheon Airportfrom Dubai on the same flight last Friday. (The Straits Times)

The Eritrean–Ethiopian border reopens for the first time since 1998. (The New York Times)

Monday,  Sept 10, 2018

The Netherlands halts funding of the Syrian opposition and police forces, saying the chances of them winning the war are “extremely limited”. Dutch support for the White Helmets will also end in December 2018. (

Nieuwsuur reports the Dutch government has provided funding over the past two years to Syrian rebel group Jabbat al-Shamiya, despite Dutch prosecutors describing the group as a “salafist and jihadistic” terror group and preparing to bring a man to trial next week accused of being a member. (Dutch News)

California Attorney General Xavier Becerra announces the arrest of 32 East Bay street gangsters linked to a million-dollar fraud conspiracy. (

Gunmen storm the headquarters of the National Oil Corporation (NOC) in Tripoli, Libya. At least four people are killed. (BBC)

A gas depot explodes in Lafia, Nigeria, killing at least 35 people and leaving some burned beyond recognition. (CBC)

Palestinian diplomat Saeb Erekat says that the United States “is willing to disband the international system in order to protect Israeli crimes”. (Times of Israel)

A car bomb in Mogadishu kills six people and injures 16 others. (Al Jazeera)

Conservative South Korean protesters at the Seoul station call for the release of imprisoned former President Park Geun-hye. (Upi)

National Security Advisor John R. Bolton threatens the International Criminal Court with sanctions should the organisation try to prosecute Americans for war crimes committed in Afganistan. (Reuters)

SpaceX successfully launches Canadian communication satellite Telstar 18V from Cape Canaveral Air Force Station. It was deployed into geostationary transfer orbit (GTO) approximately 32 minutes after rocket’s liftoff. (CBS News)

The End

That one is predetermined
That one, it finds another
This one comes in one window
Sliding out the other
We need an instrument to take a measurement
To find out if loss could weigh
We need to know value
We need to place value
In case it all comes true
Could it be loss could weigh?
It’s always they that’s dying
But now it’s we that’s dying
So sooner comes the trying to understand that loss could weigh
We’ve been dragged through the fire
We bragged about that fire
But suddenly we’re tired
Could it be that loss could weigh?
Loss could weigh

sex and anxiety

Sex, sex and more sex. Since the first time I masturbated successfully, maybe at 12, it would not be much of an exaggeration to say that I’ve thought of nothing else. The underling motive to everything I’ve done since then was to get sex, sex in one form or another. Just recently, very recently, within the last year or so, has this started to change. So, from 12 to 62, 50 years of thinking about nothing but sex. One might think me to be some sort of expert on the topic. huh. I had never thought of it that way before, but maybe I am.

Anxiety, of the free floating sort. Fear. Fear of people, mostly. The need for status among them. Status leads to sexual access, of course. The need to do something. The absolute knowledge that no matter what I happened to be doing at time, it was somehow wrong. I had to do something else. Something more? Mostly, this took the form of a new job, a business venture, more $. More $ equals more sex. Right? You’re fooling yourself if you think not.

I guess that there are some, a different sort of freak, that can substitute $ for sex. I am not one of those.

Many (most?) people think that life, in and of itself is difficult, hard. They think about security. That’s what they want. A steady mate. A steady job. Stop thinking, it’s hard work. Food on the table. A warm dry place to sleep at night. A week at the beach, a trip to europe,  mean novelty and adventure. All good stuff. I’m not here to judge.

And, of course, I operate from the perspective of a first worlder. By and large, I have not had to worry about food in my belly and a roof over my head. It’s all been there, ready and waiting for me. The table was set when i arrived. I’ve been affluent beyond the dreams of a king or potentate of not to to long ago. This too will change. Conditions will change. The notion of bourgeois sensibility as being the correct one, it will change with time. It will be destroyed. But that’s another story.

My only point is that none of us set the table. The game is in play when we arrive. We only shuffle around the pieces that are handed to us. Look at the cards and wince. This? this is my fucking hand? You must be joking me. No joke. No choice in the matter. The game will go on when we’re long gone. Nothing to get excited about. I’d say. Fold your cards, toss in your chips, push your chair away from the table. Easier said than done. Life will have none of that. You must play until it’s done with you. Sit back down. Pick up your cards. It’s late, you’re tired, but you got nowhere else to go anyway. Just one more hand…

So, sex and anxiety. Pulled by one, pushed by the other. Both aspects of the same drive, life. Life, do you think it cares about you? About me? Well, as long as we’re rushing forward blindly, banging into things, tripping, breaking shit along the way, we’re doing just fine. This is what you’re here for. You’re here exactly to stuff shit into your gullet, as much as you can, and and leave a trail of shit in your wake along the way. And, most importantly, or least very importantly, to leave some copies of  yourself along the way, so they can do exactly the same thing.

Sex is such a pleasure. I’ve had some fun with it. Although it has resulted in some copies that I’ve left along the way. Poor things. God, I left these creatures here to deal with the mess that I’ve helped make. Un-fucking-forgivable. I wish them the best. Such is life and its tricks, unforgivable.

Sex remains a pleasure. But as some sort of driving, undeniable force, one that cannot be denied, it has lost much of it’s power over me. I still crave contact. Being wrapped around another body, maybe being inside another body, gives me some solace.  I hope to give some in return, solace. The physical exertion feels good. I am a body, to be used. The anxiety of being alive, existing at all, eases. I can melt into another. I can feel their heart beat, their breath on my skin. I can taste their sweat. I take some consolation in knowing that I’m not in this alone. Never alone. But sex brings this into a sharper focus. Makes it clearer in my mind. We’re all here to suffer, we must play the game. But we don’t have to do it alone. In fact, we can’t. Or it’s hard. It’s not in the cards.

I still play the game. The stakes are lower, penny ante.  What choice? Life says, sit down, you got no where to go, and deals the cards. There’s your cards. I look at my cards and laugh. yes, of course. I’m all in.